Whispers at Dawn; Or, The Eye

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER VI A STORE IN CHICAGO

  A slender mite of a girl, barely past her eighteenth birthday, GraceKrowl was possessed of an indomitable spirit and a will of her own; elseshe would not have been walking down Maxwell Street in Chicago hundredsof miles from her home, in Kansas.

  The look in her eyes as she marched down that street where all manner ofjunk and rags are mingled with much that, after all, is pleasant anddesirable, was one of utter surprise.

  "A store," she murmured, more than once, "a store in Chicago. And MaxwellStreet. I am sure I can't be wrong. And yet--"

  Arrived at the street number written on a slip of paper in her hand, shestood staring at the narrow, two-story building with its blank windowsand unpainted walls for a full moment. Then, a spirit of desperationseizing her, she sprang up the low steps, grasped the doorknob, thenstepped resolutely inside.

  Once inside, she stood quite still. Never in any place had she witnessedsuch confusion. What place could this be? Her mind was in a whirl. Then,like a flash, her eyes fell upon an object that threw her into action.With a startled cry, she sprang at a group of women.

  She snatched a tortoise shell comb from a huge black woman's hand just asshe was about to try it in her kinky hair. She dragged a pink kimono frombeneath a tall, slim woman's arm and, diving all but headforemost,gathered in a whole armful of garments that an astonished little lady hadbeen hugging tight.

  By this time the battle turned. She found herself at the center of aconcerted attack. The black woman banged at her with a picture frame, thetall, thin one jabbed her with sharp elbows and the little lady made agrab at her hair.

  "Ladies! Ladies!" came in a protesting man's voice. "Why must you fightin my store?"

  "Fight? Who wants to fight!" the tall woman screamed. "Here we arepeaceful folks looking over the goods in your store, and here comes thisone!" She pointed an accusing finger at Grace. "She comes in grabbing andsnatching, that's what she does!"

  "Store! Goods!" Grace's head was in a whirl. How could they call this astore? It was a place where people robbed strangers,--stole their trunksand rifled them. Surely there could be no mistaking that. Were not thetrunks open there before her, a half dozen or more of them? And was nother own modest steamer trunk among them? Had she not caught them goingthrough her trunk? Were not the articles in her arms, the tortoise shellcomb, the kimono and those other garments her very own? Goods? Store?What could it all mean? Her head was dizzy.

  "A store," she whispered to herself, "my uncle's store in Chicago. Hegave me this address. He must be in the business of stealing trunks andselling their contents!" She felt, of a sudden, all hollow inside, anddropping like an empty sack, half sat upon a partially emptied trunk.

  "Miss! Why do you do this?" The bearded man who now spoke was almostapologetic in his approach. "Why do you do this in my store? Many yearsI, Nicholas Fischer, have sold goods here and never before have I seensuch as this!"

  "Nich--Nicholas Fischer!" The girl's eyes widened. "Then _you_ areNicholas Fischer. And _this_ is your store? STORE!" she fairly screamed.

  She wanted to rise and flee, but she was half stuck in the trunk and herwobbly legs would not lift her out, so she said shakily:

  "I did it be--because that's my trunk. I--I am Grace Krowl, your niecewho came from Camden Center, Kansas, to help you keep your store. But Iwon't, I won't stay a moment. I'll never, never, never help a thief!"

  "You?" The bearded man's face was a study. Surprise, mortificationregistered themselves on his face. "Grace Krowl, my niece," he murmured."Her trunk! It is her trunk! A thief it is she says I am--I, NicholasFischer, who never stole a penny! Tell me, what is all this?" He staredfrom face to face as if expecting an answer. But no answer came.

  And then a slow smile overspread his face. "Now I begin to understand,"he murmured. "It is all a mistake, a terrible mistake!

  "Ladies," he said, turning pleading eyes on the group of customers, "willyou please put back into that little trunk everything you have taken out?And if any have paid for a thing, I will repay. It is my niece's trunk.It is one terrible mistake." He began rocking backwards and forwards likeone in great pain.

  "A thief, she said," he murmured. "But who would not have thought it?"His eyes took in the half-empty trunks all about him, then he murmuredagain, "Who would not have thought it?"

  Four hours later, just after darkness had fallen, this same girl, GraceKrowl, found herself walking the most unusual street in America, MaxwellStreet in Chicago. She found it interesting, amusing, sometimes a littlestartling, and always unspeakably sad, this place where a strange sort ofbedlam reigns.

  Here, as she passed along, fat Jewish women held up flimsy silk stockingsto her view, screaming, "Buy, Miss, buy now! The price goes up! Cheap!Cheap!" Here a man seized her rudely by the shoulder, turned her halfaround and all but shoved her into a narrow shop, where gaudy dresseswere displayed. This made her angry. She wanted to fight.

  "I fight?" She laughed softly to herself. "I, who have always lived inCamden Center! A sort of madness comes over one in such a place as this,I guess." Recalling her fight earlier in the day, her cheeks crimsoned,and she hurried on.

  "What a jumble!" she exclaimed aloud as she turned her attention oncemore to Maxwell Street. "Shoes, scissors, radios, geese, cabbages, ragsand more rags, rusty hardware, musical instruments. Where does it allcome from, and who will buy it?"

  She paused to look at a crate of cute white puppies with pink noses.They, too, were for sale. Then, of a sudden, her face clouded.

  "Can I do it?" she muttered. "Can I? I--I must! But other people'sthings? So often the little treasures they prized! How can I?"

  That she might remove her thoughts from a painful subject, she forced hereyes to take in her present surroundings. Then, with a little cry, shesprang forward. "Books! 'Everything in books.'" She read the sign aloud.She disappeared through a dingy door into a room which was brightlylighted. The lights and the face that greeted her changed all. The madlyfantastic world was, for the moment, quite shut out. She was at home withmany books and with a girl whose face shone, she told herself, "like thesun."

  "A book?" this sales girl smiled. "Something entertaining? A novel,perhaps. Oh no, I don't think you'd like 'Portrait of a Man with RedHair.' It's really rather terrible. One of the chief characters is a madman who loves torturing people." The girl shuddered.

  "But this now--" She took up a well-thumbed volume. "'A Lantern in HerHand.' It is truly lovely--the story of brave and simple people. I'mafraid we're neither very brave nor very simple these days. Do you feelthat we are?"

  "She really is able to think clearly," Grace whispered to herself. "I amsure I am going to like her."

  "I'll take one, that one," she said putting out her hand for the book.And then, because she was alone in a great city, because she was burstingto confide in someone, she said, "He buys trunks, trunks full of otherpeople's things. He takes the things out and sells them, other people'sthings. They packed them away with such care, and now--now he takes themout, throws them about and sells them!"

  "Who does?" The girl's eyes opened wide.

  "My uncle, Nicholas Fischer."

  "Oh, Nicholas Fischer." The girl's voice dropped. "But he is the kindestman! Comes here with books. He sells them to Mr. Morrow who owns thisstore--secondhand books. Perhaps they come from the trunks. And Mr.Morrow says he helps poor people, your uncle does, and he doesn't letanyone know who it is."

  "But he buys trunks, other people's trunks, and sells them!" Graceinsisted.

  "Yes, buys them at auction, I guess. Several people on this street dothat. Express auctions, railway auctions, storage house auctions and allthat. And you are to help him open them up!" she exclaimed quitesuddenly. "You are to explore them? How I envy you!"

  "Envy?" Grace stared in unbelief.

  "But why not? Think of the things you may find. Diamonds perhaps; stocksand bonds; rare old coins and rarer old books; ancient
silver plate. Justthink of the things people pack away in their trunks! Letters; diaries;quaint old pictures. It--why it's like a trip around the world!"

  "But it--it seems so unfair," Grace wavered.

  "You're not the one that's being unfair," the bright-eyed one reasoned."Those people can't have their things in those trunks. Perhaps they aredead. In some cases they lost their trunks because they were too poor topay storage or express charges. You can't well help that. So why thinkabout it?"

  Grace Krowl _was_ to think about it many times and in the end to dosomething about it. That something was to draw her into a great deal oftrouble. For the moment she left the little secondhand bookshop soothed,comforted, and filled with a desire to call again.

  "No doubt you think Maxwell Street a terrible place," the smiling girlsaid as she walked with her to the door, "and that your uncle's store isthe worst on the street. But I could tell you--" A shadow fell across herface. "I could tell you things about grand stores on a very grand streetin this city of ours. Per--perhaps I will sometime."

  Grace was startled as she looked into her face. It had suddenly becomegray and old.

  "How strange," she murmured as, dodging a pushcart laden with geese, shehurried away toward Nicholas Fischer's place on Maxwell Street. "Howstrange. And how--how sort of terrible. And yet--"

  The words of a great man came to her. "No situation in life is ever sobad but that it might be worse."

  * * * * * * * *

  "What," you may be asking by this time, "have the adventures of a girlfrom Kansas to do with Johnny Thompson and his friends?" The answer is:"A great deal." In the first place, Drew Lane, having discovered thislittle lady while traveling in a bus, was not the sort to desert her inher plight. In the second place, an invisible finger of light movingacross the sky was destined to join the fates of Johnny Thompson andGrace Krowl.

  However, for the time, we will return to Johnny and his friends.